Under The Tracks
by Ambient Brain
Summary: Carrie isn't happy when she's sent on strange assignments out of the blue. She's even less happy when she finds out there are secrets floating around the agency.
1. Six Days

While on a solo assignment, Carrie stumbles into someone familiar. Suspicion and paranoia start running high.

* * *

She can almost feel the tension creating a thumping in her chest, drumming along with her anxiety. Carrie tries to keep focused and her nerves steady as she stares at her cramped surroundings, trying to remember exactly how she ended up on a cargo plane headed for Russia.

It was a bit too fast and hazy for her tastes, but it wasn't like she was never woken up in the middle of the night for an assignment before. No, what worries her is the fact that Saul tried to tip-toe around the subject. He didn't exactly seem too willing to tell her much about this case and, for the life of her, Carrie can't figure out why.

_"Why me?" she asked him "There are plenty of case officers who have been to Russia before."_

_Saul shook his head at her remark. "They're not right for the job."_

_"Why?"_

_"They're just not."_

_"Saul."_

_He took a breath and fixed her with his stare. "Our suspect reacts warmly to certain types of people."_

_"You mean women."_

_"Yes" he admitted._

_"Then you should've just told me that in the first place."_

_"Carrie, I'm not going to say I'm sorry, because I know you can handle this sort of situation."_

_"You still haven't told me exactly what this situation is about."_

_"Hank Shaw, one of our old case officers, went missing a few years ago under suspicious circumstances. Intel says he resurfaced in Siberia where he supposedly tried to get hold of some kind of explosives to smuggle back to the US. He has some sort of plan. And the worst part is that he has a grudge against us."_

_"And now he's currently in Russia."_

_"Stationed at a base. What you have to do is close to this guy until you can know for sure of what he's planning."_

_Carrie glanced at him and noted the tension in his movements. "Why do you look like there's another problem?"_

_"The base has tight security on arrival. So we can't give you any weapons. Or assistance." Saul looked away from her. "You'll be alone out there."_

_Carrie took a moment to run a hand through her hair. "So once I land, it's just going to be me."_

_"You can say no" Saul told her, "but I still think you're the best case officer for this."_

_"What exactly is this guy's grudge with us?"_

_"What we have on him is mostly hearsay. No one seems too sure of exactly what's going on."_

_Carrie ran a hand through her hair. "If it's all rumors, then why are you sending me all the way to Russia?"_

Saul didn't have a satisfactory answer for her, and the thought that he's keeping secrets from her still sends Carrie in a fit of anger and worry and paranoia. Which is exactly what she doesn't need when she's being sent across the world.

But she takes a few breaths and tells herself that it's going to be just fine. Despite being told that she'd have to do this alone, Saul did provide her with an ally of sorts. Even if it was just the pilot of the aircraft.

As the hours pass, Carrie tries to keep herself calm and maybe even a bit distracted. She idly fiddles with a box of Tic-Tacs that sits inside the pocket of her jacket. The box which contain her meds scattered among the mints. The trick sometimes makes her want to laugh, because she's certain the people who are tasked to search her on arrival will see right through it. But even if they do, she'll be fine. She can only stay two days at the most before the aircraft has to leave, with or without her. And despite her loyalty to this assignment, Carrie doesn't want to risk being stuck on a base with suspected terrorists. She plans to make that flight.

When the plane lands, the tension inside her stomach amplifies, but she keeps telling herself to calm down. All she has to do for now is appear as if she's just another person who is interested in the various weapons that are being manufactured on the base. The hatch soon opens, sending a cold air and snowflakes that makes Carrie tighten the coat around her frame.

She carefully steps outside.

What she sees leaves Carrie a bit confused. She expected some snow and an imposing base overridden with guards. But the landscape in front of her is very much unlike what she imagined. There are snowy mountains as far as the eye can see and the light of the afternoon resembles a dark winter day. But what strikes her the most is that - besides a few hastily built encampments right next to the landing - there are virtually no buildings or people in sight. The base is underground and everyone is hidden.

Carrie is in the middle of godamn nowhere.

When the pilot joins her, Carrie turns to him. "Where exactly are we?"

The pilot looks at her with a grave expression. "This is Kamchatka, Ms. Mathison. I expected Mr. Berenson told you about this."

He should have detailed exactly what she's about to walk into, but he didn't. And all the secrecy is starting to get to her.

"You can find me over there" the man says, gesturing at a run-down encampment, "for the two days we'll be here. We depart on Friday at 2PM. And if you're late-"

"You're leaving without me" Carrie says, remembering Saul's words.

They both step onto the snow and begin walking towards a group of guards who seem to be in charge of greeting any arrivals. Two of them are carrying assault riffles.

To his credit, the pilot really does try to help her and says something in Russian to the guards. But they don't seem to be swayed too much by his words because they quickly pull off Carrie's coat and start searching her. It's below freezing, but she tries to look as mellow and cooperative as possible. It's best to save the anger for later.

They look through the fake papers she's carrying with practiced patience, but they stop and frown when they search the pocket of her coat. A hand comes up with the box of Tic-Tacs.

"What's this?" one of them asks in a broken English accent.

Carrie tries to sound nonchalant. "They're mints. Like candy."

The two armed guards shake their heads and mumble something in Russian before taking the box away from her. Of course. But Carrie always expected something like this, so she keeps her expression devoid of any anger or surprise or worry. She can make it two days without her medication. This is a cakewalk.

Her coat is returned soon enough and once she's assessed as not a threat, the guards lead them inside the base, demeanor considerably less aggressive. She's determined not to waste time, so Carrie shrugs off any hostility she has for the guards and starts roaming the base.

The money she has in her pocket is supposedly enough for two days of food and a few guns. Any more and the guards would have found it suspicious. The idea that they see her as nothing but a clueless woman who was tasked to carry a few weapons for her boss secretly gets on her nerves. But it's a good mask to hide behind. As long as she's not seen as a threat, she's free to walk anywhere and feign ignorance if she's ever out of bounds.

The base is a maze of rooms and giant halls that seems purposefully designed to confuse anyone new. Carrie has no idea where she's headed but she slips among the rest of the people and tries to look like she belongs.

She's not hungry and she suspects she never will be while stuck on this ice cube, so Carrie decides to spend her food money on something else. She stops before a man who seems to be selling rifle parts and buys a telescopic sight. It would have been easy to just bring along a pair of binoculars, but she doesn't want to give the guards any reason to suspect her. It's better to play it safe.

It takes her several hours before she starts learning the basic layout of the level she's on. But despite this newfound confidence, Carrie can't help but also feel frustrated. She's been roaming the building for roughly four hours and hasn't seen one man who resembles the picture Saul showed her. She has two days to track him down before the plane takes off, and the time suddenly feels way too little.

After one more hour of ambling about, Carrie decides to walk outside and clear her head. She steps onto the crunchy snow and notices that she no longer has to peer through the falling snow because most of the mist has lifted. And, in the distance, she can clearly see something she hasn't considered before. A tunnel going through a section of mountain. It looks guarded, but Carrie doesn't let herself be intimidated.

She plays up the ignorant blonde angle and walks up to the guards like she's an innocent tourist. When she asks them there what lies beyond the tunnel, they mention with a bored demeanor that it's nothing an old, battered submarine lying on snowy field overlooking the Sea of Okhotsk. Carrie thanks them and decides to take a look anyway.

The walk is long and tedious. And cold. There are only a handful of guards walking about, but they're spread out, barely covering any ground. The more steps she takes through the tunnel, the more Carrie starts regretting it, because it's hard to keep focused while her hands and legs are shaking. She eventually stops by one of the lanterns that illuminate the tunnel every few feet, and she tries to warm up by keeping her hands above the light.

A hand grabs her shoulder from behind.

Before she even thinks it through, Carrie throws her elbow back and then kicks the intruder. And for a moment she feels horrible for reacting so quickly and blowing her cover. But something isn't right. The groan of pain the man let out sounds familiar. She quickly digs inside her coat and aims her flashlight at his face.

Carrie's face drops as soon as she sees who it is. "Quinn? Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same until you kicked me."

"Saul didn't tell me he was sending you here too. Tracking Shaw was supposed to be a solo assignment."

He shakes his head once. "I'm not here under Saul's order."

"What are you talking about?"

He takes a few moments before answering, and this reaction doesn't sit well with Carrie. "Dar Adal sent me here to find out who's keeping this base together" Quinn says, "He doesn't want any of the weapons here sent to the US."

"This doesn't make any sense. Why would the agency send us both here without telling us about each other?"

"I don't know. Things must have gotten complicated. People can be overworked, files misplaced. Mistakes are bound to happen."

"I've never heard of anything like this happening before." She wants to get in touch with Saul and ask what the hell is going on, but her phone is all the way back in the States. Not that it would do her any good seeing as there's no service in the mountains. Carrie turns her attention back to Quinn. "How long have you been here?"

"That depends on what day it is." When she gives him an incredulous look he adds, "It's always dark here, and my watch broke. It's hard to keep track."

"It's Tuesday."

He thinks for a moment. "That makes eleven days."

"You've been here almost _two weeks_?"

"It's a long story."

"I've got time."

He shakes his head. "Not here."

"Why?"

"Carrie, we're two Americans who just happened to arrive a few days from each other. If we're caught hiding out here together we'll look suspicious and instantly flagged. I'm not blowing my cover over this. And neither are you."

She wants to kick something out of frustration but she doesn't want to risk bringing attention to them. "All right. We'll talk later. Where?"

"There's a mess hall at the top level. It's full of people so that's our best cover. Meet me there in two hours."

"You want to discuss agency problems in a mess hall full of people?"

"It's noisy and no one here can speak good English." A pause. "Trust me on that last one."

The plan still sounds risky in her mind, and she knows Quinn is rarely risky. Something's definitely going on. She reluctantly agrees, even if her gut is telling her to just ignore him altogether and go on with her assignment.

When Quinn starts to leave, Carrie stops him for a moment. She unfastens her wristwatch and holds it up in her palm. "Since yours is broken" she clarifies.

He shakes his head at it. "I'll be fine."

"Quinn, you didn't even know what day it was. Besides, how are you supposed to know when to meet me?"

"You need your watch, Carrie. And I've been here longer than you have. I can get by."

She decides that maybe he's right. "What's on the other side of this tunnel?"

"I don't know. It's boarded up" he says, "it's been like this since I arrived."

"So then what're you doing here?" Carrie hopes she doesn't sound as suspicious as she is.

"Same thing you are" he says, walking towards the exit. "Looking for answers."

She's soon left by herself in the cold, dark tunnel. And with a flashlight in hand, Carrie presses onward. She's never fully trusted Quinn, and now that they both somehow ended up on the same remote place under suspicious circumstances makes her even more wary.

But he turns out to be right. The other side of the tunnel is boarded up.

Carrie grabs the telescopic sight and aims it between the boards that are obstructing the exit. What she sees is a vast plane of desolation. And what looks to be an abandoned submarine that sits rusting in the snow. There's no movement coming from inside, so she pockets the scope and heads back out.

Back inside the base, Carrie tries to inquire about other America buyers as surreptitiously as possible. But the search is fruitless. Everyone is careful not to say too much or anything at all before they go on their way. And with no other plan in mind, Carrie heads for the mess hall.

Despite not having a watch, Quinn manages to arrive on time. He sits across from her at the small table. Carrie hates that the mess hall is crowded, but tries to remind herself that all the chatter can be a good veil to hide behind.

"So what's going on?" she asks in a hushed tone.

"Are you armed?"

Carrie frowns at him. "What?"

"Please tell me Saul didn't send you here empty handed."

"It wouldn't have done me any good anyway. They searched me as soon as I got here."

"I need you hold onto this." He places a shirt on the table that seems to be wrapped around something.

She eyes it. "What is it?"

"A P220."

Carrie shakes her head and pushes the bundle back towards his side of the table. "I'm not here to kill anyone."

"It's for self defense."

"I don't want it."

He sighs and fixes his eyes on her. "Carrie, you were once kidnapped and held hostage by a terrorist. You need to carry a gun."

"I'm supposed to look like an idiot blond who's here to buy some guns for her boss. If they catch me with that, they'll be suspicious."

"Then don't let them catch you."

She leans in closer and whispers. "I can do this without any weapons. I _know _I can."

"You're in the middle of fucking nowhere, in a base full of armed people. Just take the gun. Please."

She still wants to refuse, but the look on his face makes her fold. Carrie nods and sets the hidden gun next to her. "Now will you tell me what the fuck is happening?"

"Something is going on back home with the agency. And it's sending everyone in a state of panic and suspicion."

She frowns. "Why?"

"I'm not sure. All I know is that there's a mole involved."

Carrie shakes her head. "Jesus."

"That's why so many agents were sent away these past few weeks. Everyone is trying to test their people and flush out the mole."

"But it doesn't make any sense. How is sending case officers around the world flush out the mole?"

"It reassures upper management that we're following orders. Or not." He pauses, then leans in closer. "I think they're tracking us, Carrie."

She furrows her brow. "It sounds too far fetched. There's no way for them to track us anyway. My phone's all the way back home."

He glances at her wrist. "Did you ever check inside your watch?"

Carrie glances at her wristwatch. "You think there's a tracker in here?"

"I tried pulling mine apart but ended up breaking it. So I'm not sure."

She narrows her eyes at him. "Where's this coming from? It's not like you to be so paranoid."

"Tell me something, did Saul give you details on this assignment? Or did he just gloss over everything and sent you on your way?"

Carrie stays quiet.

"He was purposefully vague, wasn't he?"

She nods weakly.

"Like I said, they're testing how loyal we are."

Carrie looks at him and wonders if two weeks is enough time to send someone over the edge in terms of paranoia. "You said you've been here eleven days" she says, unable to hide the suspicion in her tone.

"What I'm doing takes time."

"Not this much."

He glares at her for a second. "How long did Saul give you?"

"Two days."

"And this guy you're looking for, what does he look like?"

"Medium-built, blonde, American. Supposedly tends to lean on his left leg more ever since he was shot on the job."

He clenches his jaw. "Carrie, there is some grade A bullshit going on with this. Because I've been here for weeks and haven't seen one person who looks like that."

"So what're you saying exactly?"

For a moment Quinn hesitates. "Saul is lying to you. And you're just too close to him to see it."

Carrie glares at him before rising from the table. "Fuck you."

"He's not doing it because he wants to" he says, stopping her. "He's forced."

"By who?"

"Whoever is higher on the food chain."

She wonders about this for a second before dropping it. Because it doesn't make any sense. "If his hand was forced, he'd tell me."

"Are you sure about that?"

Carrie considers punching him for a moment. "If I were you, I'd board the first ship that leaves this place. Because it's obvious you've been here too long."

And she takes off, leaving both him and the handgun behind.

-o-

For the next few hours, Carrie puts him out of her mind completely because she has a job to do and very little time to do it.

She endlessly walks the maze of levels that makes up the compound, scanning across the crowd, praying that Shaw will someone magically appear in front of her. But she only sees strangers and deceptively bored-looking guards.

When Carrie checks her watch for the millionth time, it shows that it's a little over two in the morning. She's been on her feet all day and her nerves are fried, but calling it quits and going to sleep isn't an option. She presses on and decides to see what resides on the lowest level.

The more she heads downwards, the fewer people she sees, and the sight gives Carrie some hope. Maybe her luck hasn't run out yet. She descends another set of rusty stairs when she bumps into two guards who are positioned before a set of steel doors.

"Sorry" Carrie says, trying to make her smile look genuine, "I guess I got a bit lost. What is this place?"

"Storage" one of them says. She can't ignore the edge of anger in his voice. "Public isn't allowed."

Carrie retreats back up the steps, wondering if the guards ever take a break. Probably not. And until she can come up with a way to see exactly what lies beyond the doors, she has to stay clear.

An hour later and she's back at the top level, washing her face in a crummy looking restroom. She's just glad there's no one else there to see how frustrated she is. Carrie checks her watch again, even though she knows what time it is because she needs to keep her hands moving. Needs to do something.

On a whim, she takes off her watch and stares at it. It doesn't look like it's been tampered with and she can't even remember ever taking it off. Carrie puts it up to her ear and listens to the cadence of the ticking. It sounds normal. But there's still that seed of doubt in her that just won't disappear. She sighs and starts pulling the watch apart.

It takes a while to get all the screws out and arrange them by the side of the sink in an order. And when she's done, Carrie pops off the back panel. A small object falls into the sink with an audible metallic click and she rushes to catch it before it topples down the drain.

She squints at it in the dim light. A chip. It takes all of her self control not to smash it in her palm or just throw it down the drain. Carrie takes a deep breath, puts the chip in her pocket, and then assembles her watch back together. She walks back out like there's nothing wrong.

And right outside the door, she finds Quinn leaning on a wall. She wants to ask him why the hell he's following her, but knows that the second her mouth opens nothing but curses will come out. She says nothing.

"You find your guy yet?" Quinn asks.

She just ignores him for a moment, taking another deep breath.

"Carrie?"

"No, I haven't found him."

"You look a little freaked. Something happened?"

She doesn't want to be dragged into the cesspool of paranoia. She should just put everything but the assignment out of her mind and get it done. But she can't. Carrie curses under her breath as she pulls him into the restroom. Once the door closes, she digs into her pocket and reveals the little chip.

"I found it in my watch" she says, holding it in her palm.

Quinn's shuts his eyes for a second. "Jesus. I was right."

"I still can't believe it."

"Who do you think is behind all this?"

Carrie rubs her head. "Who the fuck knows anymore. Maybe even Saul. And I can't deal with this" she says, "all this paranoia and secrecy and not knowing who to trust."

He frowns. "Carrie, you signed up for this the moment you entered the agency."

"I know."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Timing." She runs her hands through her hair and looks at the wall behind him, sudden embarrassed. "They took my fucking meds."

It feels bizarre saying it out, admitting that she has this problem, especially when she hasn't discussed it with anyone except Saul and her own family.

Carrie wonders what reaction he'll have. But instead of any probing questions, all Quinn asks is, "Who?"

"I can handle it" she says "I've done it plenty of time before. It's just going to be harder while being stuck on an ice cube and surrounded by all this mess and suspicion and-"

"Carrie" he says, stopping her rambling. "Who took them?"

She shakes her head. "You're not doing anything about this. And neither am I. We're both sticking to our respective plans."

"Carrie, I've been here a long time, I can-"

"If you take _one_ step into the guards' quarters for me" Carrie begins, "I'll personally talk to the CIA Director and tell him you fucked up and aren't fit to be in the field."

He doesn't nod or shake his head. But she can tell by the look in his eye that he agrees to step down. "So what are you going to do about your so far missing terrorist?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know. He doesn't seem to be anywhere around here." She raises an eyebrow. "How's your assignment going?"

"Even worse than yours."

Carrie almost wants to laugh. "This is really fucked up. Maybe Hank Shaw is right to have a grudge against us."

"Saul told you that?"

She nods. "It sounds like he went rogue. Maybe he knows what the hell happened to send the agency in such a frenzy."

"A hundred says he's hiding on that rusty submarine" Quinn says, pensive.

Carrie looks at him. "You're serious?"

"The only access point is through the tunnel, which is boarded up. Why, where do you think he's hiding?"

"Not in any old submarine, that's for sure. I don't think someone the CIA trained could be that careless. It's too out in the open."

"Maybe he banked on exactly that. Hiding in the most obvious place no one will think to look."

"A hundred dollars" Carrie says, "you're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"So how are we supposed to get passed the blocked entrance?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know yet."

"Then I'll figure something out." She heads for the door.

"You forgot this" Quinn says, holding the handgun she left behind in the mess hall.

She wants to argue about it again, but there would be no point. So Carrie wordlessly takes the P220, places it under her belt and smooths her shirt over it.

"Where are you going?" he asks when she gets ready to leave.

"Why? Are you going to keep following me?" She didn't mean to sound this angry.

"We're supposed to have each other's backs."

She smiles weakly. "Sure."

"You don't trust me."

"I didn't say that."

"But you don't."

Carrie doesn't try to deny it. "You showed up out of the fucking blue. So excuse me if I feel a little wary after all that talk about a mole."

"You think I'm the mole?" he asks, in disbelief.

"And you probably think_ I_ am."

He shakes his head.

"Why not?"

"My gut tells me you can't be, and I always follow my gut" he says. "Maybe you should do the same."

-o-

She spends over four hours creeping around the staircase leading towards the last level. She needs to find out what lies beyond the guarded doors, but the guards keeping watch refuse to move. Carrie tries to remind herself that without her meds she becomes obsessive and that the normal thing to do is to sleep on it.

But she's too wired for that. So wired that she hears the silent clicks of someone's footfalls two levels above her. Carrie scrambles to a higher floor and tries to look inconspicuous. Luckily, the footsteps belong to the pilot of the aircraft that brought her here.

"I've been looking for you everywhere" he says out of breath.

"What happened?"

"We have to take off soon."

Carrie frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"There's another aircraft scheduled to land in a few hours. And the guards are starting to think that two days is too much for my cargo ship to stay docked. I'm really sorry, Ms Mathison."

She fixes him with her gaze. "Saul told me I have until Friday. That's two days. I need these two days."

"I'm sorry, but we have to leave."

Carrie sets her jaw and tries to think. "When's the other aircraft supposed to arrive?"

"Eight in the morning."

She checks her watch. "That gives me a little over two hours."

The pilot nods.

"I can still make it."

She rushes past him and starts climbing the stairs to the top level.

Carrie isn't sure exactly how, but in only a few hours she's been able to memorize the main routes of the base. And fifteen minutes later she spots Quinn in the mess hall talking to someone. She walks over and drags him away by the arm until they reach the back of the room.

Quinn frowns at her "Carrie, I was in the middle of-"

"The plane leaves in two hours."

"Why? What happened?"

"Never mind that. I need you to help me find Shaw."

"How?"

"We're breaking through the tunnel and getting onto that submarine."

He looks at her sidelong. "I thought you didn't believe he's hiding there."

"But if you're right then this is my last chance to get the assignment done. I just need you to help me get through that blockade. With something less noisy than explosives." She pauses. "Unless you think we _could_ get away with some explosives."

Quinn glances at her with worry. "Carrie, did you even sleep last night?"

She shakes her head. "I don't need sleep."

He remains speechless for a moment. "I'm not sure how to respond to that."

"_Two_ hours, Quinn. Are you going to help me or not?"

-o-

It's a risky plan, but Carrie is too rattled and desperate to think of something else. She searches around the base until she finds a folding shovel small enough for her to hide under her coat. Though she suspects it wouldn't matter one bit because the guards that hang around the tunnel entrance appear disinterested when she walks inside. She's instructed Quinn to keep any wandering guards busy and come in after her, fifteen minutes later.

When she reaches the blocked exit to the other side, Carrie stops and extends the shovel. And she starts digging under the wooden panels. The snow has compacted and turned into ice in some places, making the dig difficult. But at least the effort is keeping her from shivering in the cold.

A few minutes later she hears a crunch of snow a few feet behind her. Carrie springs to her feet and trains the handgun in front of her.

She sighs the second Quinn comes into view. "What the hell happened to waiting fifteen minutes?"

When he points out that this is exactly what he did, Carrie frowns and glances at her watch, confused. It looks like it's taking much longer than she anticipated. They both start digging and, after a while, Carrie decides to just ditch the shovel and just dig with her hands.

It feels like forever, but they eventually breach through to the other side. Carrie takes off running.

By the time she reaches the old submarine, she's too amped up to think clearly, and she kicks the door open, gun in hand.

"Carrie" Quinn says from a few feet behind "we need to do this methodically."

"I have thirty minutes left, there's no time to be methodical."

"Fine, but we stick together."

She nods before heading through the door.

The old submarine looks long abandoned. And the moment they walk inside, Carrie feels like she's stepped into darkness that even her flashlight has a hard time cutting through. The air is thick with dust. They take careful steps at first, but quickly end up making their way as fast as they can through the various desolate rooms.

And the more she walks, the more Carrie starts feeling the impending doom of a failed assignment. It's all resting on one far-fetched hunch that she didn't even believe at first and she only chose to follow it out of last minute desperation. She's never rushed assignments before. This isn't like her.

More empty rooms pass by, and it's obvious this it's all a waste of time. But she presses on, determined.

"Carrie."

Her train of thought is broken by Quinn, and she turns to stare with an exasperated look. "What?"

"You've got roughly twenty minutes until the plane leaves. That's barely enough time for you to head back and catch it."

She shakes her head. "I don't care about that."

"Carrie, you need to go."

But the plan already changed in her head. "I'm staying."

He sighs. "You are incredibly bull-headed, you know that? That can get you killed around here."

"Then it's a good thing you gave me this gun." She aims her flashlight around the walls of the tight corridor they're in and a tattered map comes into view. "But you're right, we need to do this right. Methodical. You check the upper decks and I'll look around the bottom levels."

Quinn shakes his head at her. "We're not separating."

"We have to, there's too much ground to cover" she says, already distancing herself.

"Carrie, this isn't how things are done."

"It is when it's _my_ assignment in play."

She heads down the stairs.

The rooms here are small and cramped, and they seem to become increasingly stuffy as Carrie progresses. Nothing but echoy and desolate corridors that are sending claustrophobic signals left and right. She starts taking smaller steps, looking around carefully, because if someone wanted to ambush her in this place it would be a piece of cake. Quinn's words of sticking together come to mind, but she shakes them away, reminding herself that this is her mission and that she was always meant to do it alone.

When the area turns out to be empty, Carrie starts descending a steel ladder that leads to the last level on the sub. She expects to find a lantern or an old mattress or something that points to the area being lived in. But so far it's nothing more than eerie darkness. She presses on, her eyes darting from left to right. And her ears pick something. It sounds like several people talking in excited tones but she can't make out what they're saying.

Carrie walks towards the door that leads to whatever is causing the chatter. She holds her breath and as she steps, making sure her boots aren't noisy. Once in front of the door, she realizes that it's ajar, and she peers inside. Carrie makes out at least five different people, all talking in Russian, and huddled before several crates. The submarine's cargo.

She wants to curse because there's no sign of her suspect and all of this has been a waste of time. Just as quietly as before, Carrie turns around.

And bumps right into three armed men.

Carrie can't outrun them, nor does she stand a chance in a fight. But she tries anyway. And it's not because there's a small possibility for her to get out of this alive, but because if she goes out kicking and screaming then Quinn will be able to hear the commotion and escape in time.

-o-

She didn't expect this. Carrie's mind went through various scenarios such as being shot once and left for dead or simply executed in the middle of the snowy plane. But being caught by the guards and thrown into a cell like a prisoner was never on her list.

But there is good news. While being hauled away from the sub and dragged back into the base, Carrie learned that the so-called supply room was actually a two level jail that looks built roughly three decades ago. And right across from her cell, but on another level, sits Hank Shaw.

For the rest of the day, Carrie sits and wonders if there's a way for her to not only escape, but also get Shaw out as well. But the prospects aren't great. Her only few possessions – the gun, flashlight, watch, and scope – are gone. And she can't believe that what she misses the most are her meds. She's been off them for almost two days now and Carrie can already feel her obsessive side taking control.

She theorizes that it must be close to midnight but the other prisoners refuse to quiet down. Carrie wonders if she could just zip her coat over her head when a series of footsteps reach her cell. Quinn wanders over and stops next to the wall by her cell, as if he's merely another guard patrolling about.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Carrie whispers.

"I didn't think you'd be preoccupied with your beauty sleep right now."

"The reason I caused that commotion back there was so you'd take off before they caught you. You're not supposed to be here."

"If you tell me that you can escape by yourself, then I'll leave right now."

She decides to drop it because he has a point. "So how did you get in here anyway?"

"I've been here two weeks, Carrie. I've built trust with some of these people."

"Does that trust extend to getting me out?"

"No."

She sighs. "I really fucked this up. You should just leave before you blow your cover too."

"Carrie, you didn't blow your cover."

"If I didn't, then why didn't they shoot me on the spot?"

"Because they think your wealthy American boss is going to pay top dollar to get you out."

"Why would they think that?"

"They don't get a lot of pretty women around here. They just assumed you're sleeping with your boss because of the money." A pause. "I might've helped cement that idea in their heads."

She's temped to say thank you, but it would be too weird to thank someone for making them sound like a prostitute.

"By the way, you owe me a hundred dollars" she says.

"Just because we didn't find Shaw in the submarine doesn't mean he's not there."

"He's here. Fifth cell on the second level."

She waits until his eyes trail over the rows of cells that reside a few feet above their floor. He lets out a sound of disbelief. "Well fuck me. You just got so lucky."

"Try saying that from in here."

"He doesn't really look like the terrorist mastermind I thought he'd be."

"I know. So how are we supposed to get to him anyway?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know yet, but I'll come up with something by daybreak. You try and get some sleep until then."

"I can't. I'm going stir crazy in here."

"That's because you've been awake for two days."

She agrees that maybe it's time to take it easy until morning. When he leaves, Carrie is left by herself in the tiny cell, feeling vaguely lonely. But she convinces herself that she'll be out of it soon enough. It's just a matter of time.

Except that the time just doesn't seem to come.

Four days pass before Carrie lets go of the hope that she can find a way out. She desperately wants to be mad at someone, at Quinn for disappearing like he did or at Saul for sending her on this ice cube. But she can't because it's her own fault she's in this mess in the first place. She was careless and impulsive and now she has to pay for being sloppy.

She eventually decides that there's no point in obsessing over a way to escape because there really is none. Carrie sleeps for the remainder of her time.

Chaos erupts on the sixth day. She's not sure what happened because of the restricted view of her cell, but Carrie knows to take cover the second shots start firing. A blackout happens soon after, leaving only a few emergency lights blinking through the shadows, all the while screams persist and people rush towards the top level.

A guard is shot close to her cell. Carrie crawls towards him, stretches out her arm, and grabs his gun. Her moves are sluggish from staying still for almost a week and her hand is shaking, but she manages to take aim. She shoots the lock off her cell.

Once outside, Carrie stops to glance upward at Hank Shaw's chamber. The emergency light clearly illuminates his terrified face, and she's ready to bolt for the stairs towards his level. But Carrie only takes one step outside her cell when a bullet rips through the air. And it hits Shaw's head.

She takes off running. He can't be dead, not now, not when she had to endure a week on a desolate snowy plane. Not when she was so close. But the second she reaches his cell, it becomes clear that he's gone. And there's nothing she can do about it. Carrie kicks the cell in frustration.

She turns around a second later, her gun trained forward. Quinn emerges from the chaos.

Carrie lowers her gun. "What the hell is going on?"

"Come on" he says and pulls her along. They run for the exit.

Despite the darkness and confusion, Carrie has no problem making out several bodies lying in pools of blood in the corridor. She wants to ask again what happened but is suddenly wary of the answer. For the moment she just wants out. They wordlessly head out, side by side.

The outside snow is blinding her, and Carrie has to squint in order to see where they're going. Soon enough, the yells and chaos of the base start sounding more and more faint as they distance themselves from it.

"Where are we going?" she asks Quinn.

"It took me a while but I managed to contact someone to pick us up by boat in a few hours."

When she glances upwards, Carrie can see that they're heading towards the ocean bank.

"What happened back there?" she hears herself asking.

He waits for a moment. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get you out."

"It's fine. What happened?"

Quinn shakes his head once, as if telling her to drop it for now because she's in no state to discuss things. Or maybe he doesn't intend to tell her at all.

"I stole these a few days ago. Thought you might need them." He takes out a familiar watch and box of Tic Tacs from his pocket. "You should hide your meds better next time."

She's not sure what to say or if she should be angry that he risked blowing his cover over something like this. So Carrie just mumbles a thanks and puts the watch and box in her pocket without another thought.

"Did you ever get your assignment done?" she asks soon after.

He shakes his head.

"So you're bailing."

"Yeah."

A pause stretches between them.

"You never bail assignments" Carrie points out.

"And I'm not usually sent in the middle of nowhere. I've been here almost three weeks and solved nothing. I'm not waiting another month."

She decides to let it go, not because she believes him, but because she's too cold and tired to argue or even think straight. They continue walking in silence.

When they finally reach the bank, the dim light begins to draw back, leaving an ominous night ahead of them. They both stop before the frozen water, waiting. The skyline is gray and undisturbed by any sign of movement.

"My scope would've come in handy right now" Carrie says to herself.

Quinn frowns lightly. "Hmm?"

"I bought a telescopic sight when I came here. A small one that can be mounted on handguns. It would've been handy now as binoculars."

"Sorry" he says "I didn't have time to grab it."

She's about to turn her gaze back towards the water when something clicks in her head. The handgun in Quinn's possession is one of the models that's compatible with the scope she had. But he wouldn't have a reason to take it, let alone lie about it. Their job isn't about killing targets, and he wouldn't just shoot someone in cold blood.

But no matter how she tries to rationalize it, there's still that spark of doubt playing in her head, one that makes her wary of him. Because it could fit. Her missing scope, the sudden death of Shaw, Quinn's disinterest in his own assignment. It all fits in the messy happenings that the CIA seemed to have suddenly fallen in.

Quinn once told Carrie to follow her gut because it's usually right. But this time she really hopes it's not.


	2. The Million Dollar Question

Carrie struggles to figure out if Quinn really is as innocuous as he seems when they're sent together on an assignment.

* * *

The more she thinks about it, the more it's starting to sound like her normal life is miles away, in the dust. Because the whispers behind closed doors keep happening within the CIA and Carrie realizes she's ending up on the sidelines, edged out little by little.

Another assignment is thrown in her arms only a few days after the last one. She's briefed on it much too hastily by an agent she's seen before maybe once, and he disappears soon after, just as quickly as he appeared. And Carrie is left with a thin folder of documents and too many questions that no one seems to answer. But this time she's decided to not just roll with it.

Carrie walks out of the small briefing room and starts searching for Saul.

A few minutes later she catches him walking briskly towards an elevator. "Saul, wait a second."

He slows down, but not by much. "You're going to have to make it quick, I'm running late already."

"You know about this assignment they put me on with Quinn?"

"On the riverboat, yeah."

"They barely told me anything" Carrie says, folding up the thin folder, "I mean, what kind of intel am I even looking for? Who's this guy holding it?"

"I couldn't tell you."

"Can't?" she asks "Or won't?"

Saul slows his stride even more. "Carrie, you're not the only one who has to put up with all this secrecy. All this bullshit taking place? It's out of my hands and I can't do anything about it. Not right now, at least. So just go along with it until I can figure out what the hell's going on."

He resumes his fast walk, leaving her behind.

"Can I trust you?" Carrie asks.

Saul stops dead in his tracks, the look on his face grave. "What did you say?"

"Can I still trust you?" she asks, this time a bit less confident

"Of course you can. Where's this coming from?"

It's the perfect time to ask him about the bug she found in her watch. About the bizarre happenings in the agency. But the questions can't even form in her head, let alone leave her lips. Carrie shakes her head. "Nowhere, sorry. I just really hate all this."

"I know." He gives her shoulder a light pat. "Me too."

And that's the end of it. Carrie chastises herself for being too much of a coward to ask him straight up about everything on her mind. She sighs and heads out the door.

A few hours short of nightfall, she's boarded the riverboat, with the same amount of confusion and worry about the happenings back at home base.

She's being kept in the dark, Carrie thinks. But she tries to comfort herself by remembering that, at least, she can't be the only one. She leans on the railing of the tourist riverboat and stares at the water, wondering how the fuck everything took such an unpredictable turn.

Finally, the echoes of footsteps begin to sound from the deck below. And a few seconds later, Quinn steps up beside her.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to show" she says, still looking at the water.

"Sorry. Got caught up with something."

Carrie waits for him to detail what the something is, but he doesn't. And that's enough to make Carrie want to bail on the assignment altogether. Her theory is that the agency is giving him extra details. They're starting to pull him in and leave her behind, because she's not exactly the most stable of people, and she's sometimes erratic and doesn't follow orders to the letter. And Quinn is opposite of this.

But if this is true and they're trying to pull him in on their side, then it doesn't make much sense why this assignment was suddenly sprung on the both of them out of the blue. And so close after their last one that Carrie can still feel the cold winds of Russia on her face.

"So what happened?" Quinn asks, as the riverboat starts to pull away from the dock.

"With Saul? Nothing."

"You didn't ask him anything about that last assignment?"

"No."

He frowns. "Why?"

Carrie isn't sure how to put it, so she decides to just be honest. "I'm afraid he's going to lie to me." She grips the railing. "Why didn't you ask him?"

"Because I _know _he'll lie to me. You're the only one who has a shot at getting answers from him."

She continues to stare out into the waves. "He said I can still trust him. Made it seems like it's crazy if I don't. Am I supposed to just do it without question?"

"It's not up to me to tell you that, Carrie."

She takes a deep breath and turns her back on the railing. "And now we're just supposed to do our job like nothing's going on." She sighs. "So what did you think of the briefing?"

"That wasn't a briefing, that was a two minute ramble that omitted a lot of critical parts of an assignment."

She nods. "This is all severely fucked up."

"What's most fucked up is that our intel is in a leather briefcase we can't open" he says, "and all we know about the guy carrying it is that he's in his 60's and a heavy smoker."

"At least we know what deck his room is on. Supposedly."

Quinn looks up at the crowd of people milling around the upper deck. "This is going to take a while."

"So how do you want to do this?"

"Split up. Just search the whole boat until we find someone who matches the target's description."

The word 'target' doesn't sit well with Carrie. Because the moment he mentions it, she can't help but think back to their earlier assignment and how their suspect was quickly dispatched, leaving her with a lot of suspicion directed at Quinn. And she doesn't want to risk making the same mistake again.

"Let's just stay together for now" she says "you never know what we can run into."

"It's a tourist riverboat, Carrie. Almost everyone here is middle aged, busy counting their money, and having affairs."

"I thought the reason we were put together on this assignment was so that we could have each other's back."

Quinn lowers his voice. "Look, what happened last time was just a stroke of bad luck. But we're not going to let it happen again. Trust me on that."

He sounds so sincere that she almost believes him. Carrie digs in her pocket and holds out an earpiece for him.

But Quinn just shakes his head. "Too conspicuous."

"The boat is full of business people. Most of them will be wearing one of these."

"It's better if we play it safe and just go old school. No one looks twice at someone using a cell phone."

Carrie can't think of anything to say that would counter his remark, so she folds and slips the earpiece back in her pocket.

"I'll start at the top deck" he says, "and work my way down. You can do the opposite. That way we make sure neither of us misses anything."

"All right. Just give a call if you find the guy."

She's most definitely not happy with their arrangement, but there's not much time to argue. The boat reaches its destination by tomorrow afternoon, and that doesn't leave them with a lot of time. They part ways, and Carrie starts blending in with the rest of the business men and women.

The mass seems innocuous enough so that no one stands out. Not that anyone is paying attention. Everyone just seems content talking to each other and being excited at the prospect of spending a night on a boat with an open bar. And Carrie finds it so easy to blend in with them that she actively has to keep in mind that the bar is off limits for her.

She keeps her wits about her and trails her eyes over the crowd, but no one with their suspect's description shows up. And after well over an hour of looking, Carrie is starting to feel frustrated. She decides to get a breather. Luckily, fresh air is pretty much all around them, and all she has to do is walk through the nearest door. Once she's out on the deck, Carrie leans onto the railing and tries to calm her nerves. She tries to keep her eyes on the horizon, but something else catches her eye. Quinn is one deck below her, talking on the phone. And obviously to someone other than her.

She's tempted to descend the stairs and just flat out ask him what's going on, but she decides to give him a chance to tell her himself.

Carrie spends a few more minutes roaming the boat before settling at a table near the bar. It would be so easy to just throw her professionalism out the window and ask for a drink. She stays strong, but for what reason, Carrie isn't sure. She tosses this question in her head for a while, until Quinn shows up and takes a seat across from her.

"I've got nothing on my end. No sign of the guy."

"Same here" Carrie says. "I was hoping that maybe someone from the agency would call and give us some more information about him." She tries to seem casual as she waits to see if he reacts.

But Quinn's face remains impassive. "I don't think that's going to happen."

"So if the guy isn't mingling with the rest of them then he's staying put in his room. And that just makes things more difficult."

"But not impossible."

She takes a breath. "We can wait till tomorrow morning. Everyone should leave their room for breakfast around that time."

"That's cutting it a little too close. It only leaves us with a few hours until the boat docks."

"So what do you suggest?"

"We know what deck this guy's room is. So all we have to do is find out what rooms are occupied and by who. And then it's a simple matter of breaking in when everyone's asleep."

Carrie arches an eyebrow. "You can pick locks?"

"The ones used on this boat are low security. I just need fifteen seconds."

"All right" she says, "let's do it."

Since getting hold of the ship's manifest wouldn't do them any good, they decide to spend the rest of the time before sundown to haunt the corridors and figure out which passengers go where. And it soon becomes evident that there is only one smoker in his 60's who resides on the second deck.

Carrie wanders the boat, waiting until the majority of the passengers begin retiring to their rooms or decide to make the bar their permanent hangout. And once it's all clear, she joins Quinn over in the empty corridor.

He instructs her to hold a flashlight so that he can see what he's doing. The kit he's holding in his hand seems too simplistic to Carrie, but she keeps her mouth shut and just hopes everything will work without a hitch. But her hopes are decimated when Quinn freezes with the pick in his hand. Because she can also hear that there's someone else inside the room with their suspect. A female voice.

They sit rooted to the spot as they try to listen, but there's nothing but muffled sounds coming through the door. Quinn puts the lock picks back in their kit and then retrieves something else from his pocket. A small device that he attaches to the underside of the door. He then hurries Carrie out of the corridor, until they're outside.

"What the fuck is going on?" she whispers. "Why is there a woman in there?"

"I don't know."

Quinn leads her on the upper deck where their rooms are booked. And once they're inside his room, he locks the door and begins unpacking a laptop and various other equipment.

Carrie can't help but pace the room. "I memorized that file and I know it like the back of my head. And that asshole who briefed us didn't say a damn thing about someone else traveling with our guy."

"Maybe he didn't know about her."

"Think she has something to do with whatever's in the briefcase?"

"We're about to find out."

Once he successfully links the bug to the laptop, he throws Carrie an extra headset. And she settles down next to him.

Carrie frowns once she takes a look at the screen. "There's just audio?"

"The bug is at floor level. We wouldn't be able to see anything anyway."

"And that doesn't worry you? We need to see what's going on in there, we can't just-"

"Our assignment is to recover the briefcase. So just take a deep breath and relax."

She tries to follow his advice and just listen in. Their suspects are, by the sound of it, old co-workers. They're making idle chit chat, with the occasional branching onto talking about various business ideas. But absolutely nothing about the briefcase. And after fifteen minutes of boring, irrelevant talking, Carrie has had enough. She ditches the headset and stands.

"Where do you think you're going?" Quinn asks, glaring.

"Something's wrong. They're acting too normal."

"So?"

"What if they know someone's listening in?"

"The possibility of that is so slim that it's almost invisible."

"Then what the fuck is happening? What could be inside that briefcase that's important enough for us to be after it, but not important enough for some class A agent to be carrying it? Or at least someone who doesn't look like a grandfather."

Quinn opens his mouth to protest but his expression quickly changes to confusion.

Carrie is instantly alerted. "What?"

"Our grandfather and his lady friend are flirting."

It dawns on her that Quinn is still listening in on their suspect's conversation. "Are you serious?"

"At least this mystery is solved" Quinn says. "She's just a fling."

Carrie frowns. "I didn't think people this guy's age still did that."

"Well, just be happy you don't have to listen to this."

She can't help but smile slightly as she sits down on the bed. "So how long do you think it'll be until this guy falls asleep?"

"I don't know, but it better be soon. Listening to this is making every fiber of my being want to cringe."

"Maybe I can knock on their door with some excuse and break them up faster."

"We're not intervening."

"But I-"

"_No_. " He sighs. "Jesus, you really hate staying on the sidelines, don't you?"

"I hate waiting" she says, fidgeting in place and tapping her fingers on the bed.

"Well get used to it because- You are fucking kidding me" Quinn says under his breath.

She's back on her feet in a second. "What's happening?"

"They've moved past the flirting."

It takes her a second to realize what he means. "Oh" she says, amused.

"And if you listen _real_ careful you can hear my brain cells begging me to change my career."

Carrie arches an eyebrow. "Did you just make a joke?"

"I don't know, I'm really tired. And after this night I'll probably never sleep again."

"Come on" she says, already regretting it, "let's switch."

He shakes his head, "It's fine."

"But you said-"

"One of us should get some sleep tonight. Might as well be you."

She hates to admit it, but she's a bit touched. "You sure?"

"I won't be if you don't shut up about it."

Carrie decides to step out for a few minutes and have some fresh air. She's never liked being stuck in a small room and waiting for things to happen, because it sets her on edge. Waiting has always made her feel anxious, like she could be doing something tangible in the meantime.

But so far things seem to be going, more or less, according to plan. Carrie just hopes that this isn't just the calm before the storm.

When she walks back through the door to Quinn's room twenty minutes later, she finds him massaging his temples.

"They're still going at it?" she asks.

"Watching TV."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"They're watching Lifetime."

She gives him a sympathetic look before sitting down next to him. "So what do you think is really going on back home?"

"I don't know. But something big must've happened to send everyone in such a frenzy."

"And they're keeping it hidden from most of us. I still don't get why."

"Maybe one of our own did something stupid that blew up in their face. And now trust is no longer implied."

"Or maybe they still haven't uncovered the mole."

"Maybe." Quinn shrugs. "Until then we just have to trust that it's going to sort itself out."

"Right" she says, unconvinced.

"It's gotten quiet."

Carrie frowns at him.

"I mean in the room. I think our guy and his friend are finally asleep."

"So when do we move in?"

He glances at his watch. "REM sleep usually occurs within fifteen minutes."

They wait until snores start being picked up by the bug before they quietly make their way down the corridor. The boat has fallen dead silent on their deck. True to his word, picking the lock to the room takes Quinn only a few seconds. But Carrie is too busy keeping watch to be impressed.

The moment they step inside, she realizes that two sets of hands might not be enough. The room is overrun by clothes, bags and all manner of packaging left from ordered meals. She tries to be as quiet as possible while searching. Her nerves feel fried from keeping herself actively alert and tense. But after several minutes she catches sight of a brown briefcase tucked under the bed. Carrie grabs it, and then tries to signal to Quinn that the search is over as quietly as she can.

And just as silent as before, the make their way out of the room.

"That went a little too well" Carrie says as they're walking towards the upper deck.

"I forgot I was dealing with an optimist."

"I mean how did they stay asleep with two people searching around a few inches from them?"

"The fact that they had sex a few minutes ago might have something to do with it."

"But that doesn't just put you in a sleeping coma like that."

Quinn shoots her a questioning look. "The fact that you said that makes me feel really sad for you."

"So you don't find it worrying that this went so well?"

"No. And you might want to try and relax one of these days. Not every assignment has to have complications."

She takes a deep breath to steady her oncoming aggravation.

They step back inside Quinn's room, where he places the briefcase on the bed.

"Let's just hope it's the right one" Carrie says.

"It has to be. It's got the lock at the top." He turns it over. "And the initials SJ are embedded here at the bottom."

Carrie takes a moment to mentally search through the files that were given to her regarding the assignment."There was no mention of any initials in the briefing."

"There was, around the end. You might've just overlooked it."

She found it weird that they had been briefed separately but now it dawns on her that it must've been on purpose. "Yeah" she says, feigning honestly "you're probably right."

"Now it's all a matter of hiding this and getting back home once the ship docks in the morning. Which will be in roughly three hours. So if you want to catch some sleep, now's your chance."

"Sure, I'll see you in the morning."

She steps out and heads for her room, a plan already forming in her head. Everything about this assignment has felt odd for her. From their separate briefings to the fact that such a simple mission required two people. And she's sure Quinn knows something he isn't saying.

Carrie stops by the kitchen before she walks back to her room with a single cup of tea in hand. Once inside, she digs inside her bag and retrieves an orange bottle with sleeping pills. The voice in the back of her head is whispering that she should feel like shit for doing this, but she blocks it out, because the need to know supersedes what she thinks about herself.

And within ten minutes, Carrie is back in front of his door, holding the cup of tea. She knocks.

The door opens quickly. "Did something happen?"

"Not exactly. But my room is right next to the kitchen, and this burn food smell keeps coming from the vent. I thought maybe I could bunk with you." When Quinn looks uneasy she adds, "I'm a quiet sleeper, I swear."

He steps aside. "Fine, come on in."

"I brought you some tea. Sort of a sorry-that-I-have-to-sleep-here peace offering. I figured you might need to drink something other than coffee."

Quinn eyes the cup, but still takes it from her hands. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

She squeezes into the armchair and stretches her legs onto one of the chairs by the table, trying to look comfortable.

"You really want to sleep like that?" he asks, after taking a drink of tea.

"I'd rather sleep on the floor then spend another second in the chicken smell."

"Interesting that this is where you draw the line."

She keeps him talking until he finishes the tea and start becoming groggy. And once Quinn stretches out onto the bed, Carrie starts listening to his breathing pattern. It takes only five minutes before it evens out. And seconds later, Carrie quietly slips out of the armchair.

She goes through the bag that he brought over, even though she knows there's no chance he would have left something suspicious inside. There's nothing but cables, bugs, and other hardware parts that don't seem like would even be necessary for their assignment. Quinn is always crazy prepared no matter the situation, and this fact just makes her even more anxious. She continues digging inside, past the box of ammunition that's tucked at the bottom. But there's nothing.

The room also proves empty, the various drawers and shelves housing nothing but the usual hotel room paraphernalia. She checks under the bed, one last desperate search. But not even a rookie would've been naïve enough to hide anything there.

She ponders what to do next when an idea comes to her. It's a stupid and risky one, but Carrie needs to find something tangible, and she's not about to fold now. She leans over Quinn and tries to grab the jacket that's thrown on the other side of the bed.

But she hears a shuffle. And a gun appears close to her stomach.

"What are you doing?"

And that's the million dollar question that Carrie has no right answer for. She just takes a few steps back as Quinn gets off the bed with sluggish movements.

"Jesus, my head's swimming..."

She eyes him, unsure of why the sleeping pills didn't just knock him out for a solid few hours.

"Carrie?"

She tries to find an appropriate thing to say. But all she can come up with is, "I need to know whose side you're on."

"What are you talking about?"

"The agency is edging me out, keeping me in the dark about a lot of things. And I just know they're not doing the same to you."

He almost looks shell shocked. "Carrie, I'm in the _same_ situation as you."

"And maybe I could try to believe that if you weren't pointing a gun at me."

He looks at his hand as if suddenly remembering he had been moving on autopilot. He lowers it. "Someone was sneaking about here and looking through things, what was I supposed to believe?"

"Did you kill my suspect back in Russia?"

Quinn stands perplexed for a few moments. "Carrie, that has nothing to do with this."

"Did you do it?"

"I don't know what you think this will help solve."

"It's a simple question" she presses on, "that warrants a simple answer. Unless it's a lie."

He narrows his eyes at her. "What happened to you?"

"I need to know what the fuck is going on, and right now you're the only one here that can clear a few things up for me. And the fact that you're not willing to do it just proves that my suspicions are right."

"What suspicions?"

"Did you kill the guy in Russia?" she repeats.

Quinn takes a deep breath then presses his lips together for a few moments. "Yes."

Carrie just stands in front of him and gently shakes her head, unsure what to say.

"It wasn't my call. I was tasked to take him out."

"By who?"

"You already know who."

She runs a hand through her hair. "So you're some kind of an assassin now?"

"No."

"Well you must be, because you just shot someone who had no reason to be murdered."

"I kill the people that deserve it."

"Because you're the one who decides who lives or dies."

"This isn't about me, Carrie. I'm not the one who's calling the shots."

"Then maybe you should think about not listening to whoever is. Because the guy you killed in Russia was most likely innocent. He looked just as scared as me when he was locked up in that cell."

"Looking scared doesn't change the fact that he was trying to smuggle weapons and preparing to attack us."

"_Supposedly_. You were working on a hunch." She glares at him. "You killed him on a fucking hunch."

"Not according to my sources."

"Jesus fucking Christ..." She sighs. "So who's your target this time? Our suspect?"

"No."

"Maybe that woman who's in there with him?"

"Carrie-"

"Is it me?"

Quinn freezes with his eyes on her.

"It is, isn't it? Now it makes sense why I'm being kept on the sidelines. Why they paired us up like this. Make the target even easier to take out."

"Carrie, you're getting paranoid. You know I would never hurt you."

"Right. Unless you were ordered to."

"Look" he says, walking towards her, "I know there's a lot of happening back home and no one seems willing to give answers, but—"

"You take another step and I _promise_ that you won't be leaving this room alive."

Quinn stops and stays rooted to the spot. "Carrie, I'm not the enemy here."

"Give me the gun and maybe I'll start believing you."

He hesitates, and she can't blame him. Carrie is aware of how crazy she must look in his eyes after just drugging him and searching his room. Tentatively, he holds up the firearm for her to take. Carrie grabs it without wavering and notes the silencer that's already mounted. If she wanted, she could kill him in a heartbeat and no one on the boat would even be aware of it.

She gestures behind him. "What's in the briefcase?"

"I don't know."

"Why does the agency want it?"

"I don't know."

She clutches the firearm tighter. "You want to try that again?"

"You're not going to shoot me, Carrie. Not over this."

He's got her there, but that doesn't change the fact that Carrie still really wants to hurt him just because he's being so cryptic.

"You broke through a door lock in ten seconds" she says "that means the one on the briefcase should be even easier."

"And once we bring it in tomorrow, they'll know we've tampered with it."

"Which is a big problem for you, because you're their guy. But me?" Carrie shakes her head. "They're not even going to be surprised that I disregarded an order. They'll probably even expect it."

"Carrie, I gave you my own gun and you're currently pointing it at me. What else do I have to do before you start trusting me?"

"Just answer me this: who were you on the phone with earlier today?"

He hesitates for only a few seconds, but Carrie takes note of it. "Saul."

"What did he want?"

"He told me to keep an eye on you."

"Why?"

Quinn shakes his head. "He didn't say."

"You know what I think? I think that you're lying and that he told you to watch me because I might be the mole. And the worst part is that I can't prove that I'm not. I'm not the most stable or reliable of case officers. I have a short fuse and tend to argue with everyone." She smiles bitterly. "I'm the perfect suspect."

"Carrie, I know you're not the mole."

"And that leaves over three hundred people to convince."

"You're under a lot of duress right now, and I get that-"

"No, you don't. You've been working for us for, what, a year and a half? I've been here much longer than that. And the fact that everyone seems to trust you more than me is like a fucking punch to the face."

Despite her earlier warning, Quinn takes a few steps towards her. "I have your back, Carrie. As long as I'm here I'll vouch for the fact that you're not the mole."

Carrie just stares at the gun in her hand that suddenly looks foreign. She's not sure what to think or who to trust and she hates the fact that Quinn might really be innocent in all this. Because if he is, then she has no one to take her anger out on. She takes a step towards the table and places the handgun down.

She leaves his room without saying a word.

Daylight arrives as an unwanted visitor for Carrie. She's spent the night by staring at the ceiling and now the light makes her realize that she has to face Quinn and has to face going back home.

They barely say a word to each other when they meet in the morning and wait for the boat to dock. But on the drive back to the city, Carrie realizes she can't stay quiet forever.

"I'm sorry" she says, her eyes glues to the dashboard, embarrassed "for drugging you. And not trusting you. And all the yelling. You didn't deserve any of it and I'm really sorry about what I did." She tries to gauge his expression, but he seems so concentrated by the road ahead that it's impossible.

"It's fine" he says eventually.

Carrie looks at him incredulous. "It's fine? No, it's not fine. Quinn, I fucking drugged you back there. You should be pissed at me and start yelling or punching me or something."

"You were upset and paranoid. I get it."

"Can you stop being so understanding for a second? You're supposed to make me feel guilty as shit right now."

"Look, we've all been under stress these few days. So I'm going to just pretend that what happened yesterday didn't happen."

She frowns. "Why?"

"Because you're not the only one who did something regrettable lately."

Carrie glances at him from the corner of her eye. "I thought you said that you kill the people that deserve it."

"That doesn't mean that I enjoy it in the least."

The car falls silent for the rest of the drive. As the city passes by her in the window, Carrie wonders what she should do next. She's still scared of the answers, but she's beginning to think that playing it subtle will never get her anywhere. And as they pull into the city, Carrie resolves to just be point-black with Saul and get to the bottom of things, even if her reputation will be put on the line.


	3. Smoke and Mirrors

When most of her reliable options go out the window, Carrie ends up putting her trust in someone she's always been wary of. She just hopes it's not a mistake.

* * *

Somewhere along the drive back to the agency, Carrie realizes she's started tapping her fingers obsessively. Because she knows they'll try and put a wall between her and whatever is going on, do their best to keep her out of the loop. And she can't let herself just sit on the sidelines and go with the flow. But if there's truly nothing she can do about it, Carrie resolves to at least make everyone's lives as miserable as she can.

As they pull into the parking lot, she glances at Quinn out of the corner on her eye, wondering if he's keeping something from her, or is really just being surprisingly professional about all that's going on. She's not used to dealing with people who are so calm and hard to decipher all the time. Which is exactly why he makes her nervous.

They grab the briefcase and head inside.

Carrie's eyes scan the corridors and hallways, looking for Saul. She's been putting off having a proper talk with him for days, and despite the dread she's feeling, she has to do this eventually and ease her nerves.

The briefcase they just collected is quickly whisked away from Quinn's arms just as soon as they pass the front doors of the conference room. They both receive lukewarm thanks and then are hastily ushered back outside the room, as if they're nothing but children.

Carrie is tempted to protest, but she decides to pay attention to the men carrying off the briefcase. And once the elevators close behind the two men who grabbed it, Carrie pays attention to what floor they're going.

She starts moving towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Quinn asks, stepping after her.

"They're taking it to the basement."

"And you think they'll just let you walk in?"

"Only one way to find out."

"Carrie, stop." But when she refuses to listen he grabs her arm. "Wait. Just _think _for a fucking second. You go in there and you're just adding fuel to the fire. And there's enough fires to put out as it is. Just stand down and think about this."

"They already think I'm someone who flies right off the handle. The worst they can do right now is kick me out."

"No, the worst they can do is _fire_ you."

"They can't fire me for walking inside a room."

"Carrie, they have more power than you think. You go in there and piss off the wrong people, and they'll make sure to make your life a living hell."

"I need to know what kind of intel is in there" she says, eyeing him, "and I know you do too."

He shakes his head. "I really don't."

"Don't bullshit me."

Carrie can see the uncertainty in his expression, but he lets go of her arm nonetheless. "I'm coming with you."

"I thought you didn't care about this."

"I don't. You just stand a better chance of not getting kicked out if you're not alone."

Carrie shrugs. "Just don't say I didn't warn you if people start thinking my way of doing things rubbed off on you."

"That's the least of my worries right now."

"It shouldn't be."

She feels mildly guilty that he's following her, because everyone will assume she's somehow brought him to her chaotic side of doing things. But, ultimately, it's his decision and she has other things to worry about.

When they reach the basement Carrie spots a man standing guard in front of the door. But she doesn't stop her stride, because she's managed to walk into restricted places before. It's all about walking with purpose.

But she's forced to stop when an arm stretches in front of her.

The man shakes his head. "I'm sorry, you don't have the clearance to walk in there."

Carrie fixes her stare on him. "We're the ones who brought the briefcase in the first place."

"I'm sorry."

She sighs heavily. "Look, the beady-eyed dick who briefed us on the assignment didn't say we'd get shut right out of this."

"I just handle security, so I don't know about any 'beady-eyed dick'."

"If you want me to scour this entire place until I find the fucking bastard, then I will."

"That wouldn't make any difference, I was told to keep out everyone but the two agents already inside. I'm sorry."

"Listen to me _very_ carefully-"

"Carrie."

She turns around and walks up to Quinn, annoyed. "What?"

"It's pretty obvious that he was told to keep us out. So let's just cut our losses."

She shakes her head. "I'm not leaving."

"What are you going to do, fight the guy?"

"If it comes down to it-"

"He has a tazer. You'll be down in two seconds and that will be the end of it."

"So we just leave without knowing what the fuck is in there? They're treating us like we're nothing but foot solders. This isn't right."

"I know. But ruffling feathers isn't going to help you."

"No, but it'll piss _them_ off."

Quinn opens his mouth to protest her decision. But the second he does, a deafening sound slices through the air, and they're sent falling backwards into a gray haze of confusion.

-o-

She isn't sure if she blacked out or not, but one thing is clear the second her eyes open. A bomb went off nearby, causing some of the walls and ceiling to collapse around them. And she's stuck somewhere under a lot of debris. Carrie peers through the darkness, struggling to see something. But there's no use.

"Carrie?"

Her ears are still ringing, but she can clearly make out Quinn's voice. "Yeah, I'm over here."

"You all right?"

She shifts and the movement sends waves of pain from her shoulder. "I'm fine" she lies, "what the fuck happened?"

"I think there was some kind of bomb in the briefcase."

Carrie takes a moment to shut her eyes tightly. She knew something was off about their last assignment but no one listened to her.

And the small pocket of space around her suddenly feels too small. "We need to get the hell out of here."

"I can't do anything, I'm fucking pinned down. We'll have to wait for them to dig us out."

But she can't just sit still and do nothing because it feels like being stuck in her head. And there's just too much chaos swirling around. Carrie starts forcing the bits of concrete off her, dislodging debris and sending dust everywhere.

"You were right, Carrie" his voice echoes, "You were fucking right. We should've opened the briefcase when we had the chance."

She wants to call him out on not trusting her judgment, but decides to take out her frustration out on the wall in front of her. "This doesn't make any sense. Why did they ask us to retrieve it in the first place?"

"They didn't know it was a bomb. Or maybe they did, and were hoping it would've blown us up back on that ship."

"If they were trying to get us killed, they could've done it in a lot of other ways."

"Then there's someone after the whole CIA."

She wants to laugh, but her mouth isn't used to such a foreign movement. "It sounds like a fucking conspiracy theory."

"I know."

"So what are we supposed to do?"

"Right now? Stop moving. You can dislodge something and get crushed."

But she can't, and her breathing accelerates the more time she spends under the rubble. Carrie can't help but keep struggling. She kicks the debris that's holding her down, purposefully ignoring her burning shoulder.

She was right about the damn briefcase. She was fucking right yet again and no one listened.

After a few seconds she hears Quinn telling her something, most likely to calm down and stop struggling, but she disregards him. Carrie doesn't stop moving erratically, not even when a team of people starts digging them out.

Roughly half an hour later, a pair of arms grab hold of her shoulder and lift her up. Strong lights blind her as she's being pulled out from under the rubble.

"I need to talk to Saul" she says, struggling to get out of their grasp.

"Right now you need to keep calm, Ms. Mathison."

"No, you don't get it, something really fucked up is happening and I need to talk to him."

"There was an explosion and-"

"Yes, I fucking know that, I need to talk to him!"

"She's bleeding" a second voice says, "we'll need to take her to the hospital."

"No, you're not taking me to any fucking hospital! Someone's fucking lying to us, someone knew about the bomb!"

"She's hyperventilating."

"I'm not-" More arms grab her. "Get your fucking hands off me!"

The more she resists the more they're keeping her down. And after only a few more seconds she feels a familiar, sharp pain in her right arm. When she turns her head, Carrie spots a needle. And her vision quickly blurs.

-o-

She wakes up on a hard mattress in a hospital room with too much light. And the pounding headache and stinging eyes make her realize that they must have sedated her.

It was the easiest way to shut her up, especially since they could always back up their actions by reminding everyone of her unstable condition. But Carrie has never been one to easily push over, and she's not about to start now. She throws the covers off her body and tries to stand up. But something keeps her still. Her left arm is held to the bed by cuffs.

Of course.

Her kneejerk reaction is to scream and pull on the cuffs until either her wrist or the bed break. But the explosion left her feeling as if she's just run a marathon. And the people back at the agency made it very clear that struggling and trying to do things somehow other than their way never ends well. She lets herself fall back onto the pillow. And then closes her eyes, waiting.

And she keeps waiting. Eight days pass her by in a haze which make her wonder if the nurses are even honest when they tell her how long she's been lying in the hospital bed. Her shoulder is healed, and so are the rest of the cuts on her body. And yet whenever she asks when she'll be allowed to leave, the answer is always the same. 'Soon'.

When the tenth night rolls around, Carrie decides that she's had enough. By pure dumb luck she's managed to obtain a safety pin, and even if the chances of her plan working are slim, she's not backing down. Carrie bends the pin and start working on getting the handcuffs off her. She has to move her arm at an uncomfortable angle but she ignores the pain. Because the cuffs make clicking sounds every so often, and that's enough encouragement to keep going. But after forty minutes of trying, they still refuse to open.

She stops for a moment because her fingers feel cramped from their constant struggle. And as she flexes her fingers, her ears pick up a sound.

Her door opens and then shuts. And footfalls start nearing her bed. Carrie turns around, but she's not fast enough. And an arm grabs her.

"Relax, it's just me."

For a moment she doesn't care who Just Me is because all she wants to do is shoot him for giving her a heart attack.

She glares at Quinn. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry. But it's not like I could've announced my arrival to the nurses."

"How the hell did you even get in here? No one on this floor is allowed visitors."

"I got my hands on some fake credentials."

"So why are you here? I doubt you went through the trouble of getting a fake ID just so you could visit me."

His expression softens a bit, remembering the state she's in. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm just peachy. Why are you here?"

His eyes trail over the wall behind her. "I'm in trouble."

"And you think _I_ can help you" she says raising her left arm, causing the handcuffs to clatter against the bed frame.

He smiles slightly, but it lacks any mirth. "You have no idea the shitstorm you caused back home. You outburst put everyone on high alert."

"Good."

"That's bad. Now, instead of the agency being suspicious, they've started edging out everyone who isn't essential."

"Like you."

"Like Saul. And basically every single person we ever considered even a bit trustworthy."

"So you came here for an apology."

"No, I'm here because I need your help."

"Quinn, I'm fucking _stuck _in this place. And no amount of fake credentials will get me out."

"I can help you get out of here. But you're not going to like how."

She's not convinced she's doing the right thing, but it's not like she has any other option. "All right. I'm listening."

"The consensus back at the agency is that they're willing to let you go. But you have to agree to a few terms first."

Carrie wishes she could say she's surprised. "I fucking knew they'd pull something like this. They were just waiting for an opportunity to-"

"Carrie."

She tries to suppress the anger she's feeling. "What terms, exactly?"

"You can't go rising up anymore shit. You're going to have to be monitored by a doctor, and you have to follow their rules without a single complaint."

Carrie stares. "So I'm essentially their mindless puppet."

"Only for a while."

She tries to balance the two options, but it's clear which one would drive her less insane. "Forget it. I'd rather stay here."

"You're not the only one who's in trouble right now."

She has to pause for thought. "What's going on with you?"

They're already whispering, but he finds the need to lower his voice even more. "I'm being followed."

She has to frown because it doesn't make any sense. "By our guys?"

"No."

"How do you know for sure?"

"That's a long story. The point is that there's someone out there trying to keep tabs on me."

The very thought of someone she works with being followed annoys her. She wants to help, but the reality of the situation is she has no way to do it. "There's nothing I can do about it anyway. I don't have any power. Not in here and not outside. I'm sorry, but you're better off asking someone else for help."

"Carrie, you've seen how deep the paranoia and games run in this fucking agency. And right now? You're the only person in that place that I still trust."

She wants to ask why, but the answer is obvious. She's been stuck for days in the hospital and couldn't have anything to do with his current troubles. And even if Carrie doesn't really owe it to the CIA to agree to their terms, she can't turn her back on someone who needs help.

"Fine" she says, "I'll take the fucking deal."

The discharge from the hospital is quick and without incident. And a few minutes later, Carrie walks out of her room, feeling somewhat odd that there isn't a cuff latched onto her hand anymore. But after over a week of lying in a hospital bed, she finds that her legs have a hard time keeping up with her determination. Quinn suggests they sit in the hospital courtyard for a while.

"So tell me about who's following you" she asks him, antsy at the thought of wasting time.

"About a week ago I started getting the feeling like someone was watching me. The usual stuff like footsteps always echoing behind me. But I wrote it off as paranoia. And then I found traces of someone being in my house."

"What traces?"

He takes a breath and fidgets in place, obviously uncomfortable telling her this. "I use these... techniques to make sure no one tries to sneak into my house. Like placing a piece of thread over a door, so that if I find it broken I know someone has been inside."

"Why not just install a hidden camera?"

"Too easy to detect and mess with. Simple is better."

She frowns slightly. "I still don't understand why you're sure it's not one of our guys trying to spy on you."

"Because I know how they work. They've tried before."

It quickly dawns on her that there was a time when she asked Virgil to search his house. And now she's attempting to help someone she never thought she'd even begin to trust.

"Things really are bad at the agency" he goes on, "No one's saying a damn thing about the bomb."

"You said there was someone targeting us. All of us."

"It's just a theory."

"But it makes sense. All the secrecy, all the smoke and mirrors. The Director isn't telling us anything because there has to be someone leaking information. That's probably how the bomb got through without setting off any alarms."

"Maybe" he says, pensive.

"So I assume you tried to ditch this guy who's tailing you by switching places, hotel rooms."

He shakes his head once. "I haven't moved."

"Why?"

"How does that old saying go? Keep your enemies closer."

"It's risky."

"It's worth a shot. When he gets close to me, I'll manage to get close to him and find out what the fuck is happening."

Carrie finds that maybe his idea isn't so bad after all. "All right, then let's give him another reason to find you interesting. He won't expect someone like me to show up out of the blue."

Quinn turns to frown at her.

"That's why you got me out in the first place" she says, "to throw this guy a curve ball."

"No, I got you out because you didn't deserve to be in there, and because we both need someone to watch our back. But you're not getting directly involved in this."

"So there's someone tailing you for no reason and I'm supposed to pretend it's not a big deal."

"If I managed to piss someone off and you're seen working with me closely, then the shitstorm will end up on you too."

"I don't care. I just want to know what's going on."

"Carrie, you don't-"

"Right now I don't have a lot to lose, so just spare me whatever speech you had in mind."

"You have a family" he points out.

"They'll understand."

"I don't think they will."

She gestures back at the hospital. "I was detained in that fucking room for over a week. And I just agreed to a ridiculous deal. So if you think I'm just going home after all this, then you're crazy."

He keeps trying to talk her out of it for a while longer, but it soon becomes obvious that she's not budging. Carrie plans to set up camp at his house and wait for the man following him around to get curios enough and make a mistake.

-o-

She can't help but make a face as she steps over the threshold.

"What's wrong?" Quinn asks.

Carrie glances around the Spartan house. "Nothing. I just remembered that you're not some run-of-the-mill analyst."

"So no one told you anything about what I do."

"No."

He locks the door behind them. "Sorry. But everyone agreed it would be better if you didn't know."

"Why? Because I'd lose my shit and try to stop whatever you were doing?"

"Something like that."

She shakes her head. "And they wonder why trust is so hard to earn in this fucking place."

"It wasn't my call."

"Right. You're innocent in all this."

"I never said that."

She watches him as he takes a duffle bag and places it inside the closet. "So what kind of assignments did they put you on?"

He makes a few false starts before deciding to say, "I don't think they'd appreciate me detailing that."

"Did it ever involve me?"

A buzzing sound makes Carrie jump. And she suddenly remembers there's a phone in her pocket. "Yeah."

"It's me" a familiar voice says.

"Hi, Saul." She isn't sure if what she's feeling is relief or anxiety. Maybe a combination of both.

"How are you feeling?"

"I took the deal, if that's what you're wondering."

"I hope you know I didn't play any part in setting that up."

And in the split of a second she decides to just rip off the band aid. Get everything out of the way. "Did you know about the bomb?"

"Of course not."

"What about the tracking device they put on me and Quinn when we were in Russia?"

A long pause passes between them.

Carrie closes her eyes. "Fuck, you knew about it."

"I was only trying to make sure you'd be all right."

"If that was true, then you could've told us about it."

Saul doesn't answer her implied question.

"What else?" she asks, realizing she's started pacing the room. "What else did they tell you that you kept to yourself?"

"If I hid anything from you, it's because it was the best course of action."

"We have the right to know what's going on."

"And I'm still your superior, Carrie. I'm sorry that it pisses you off, but that's how things are. You report to me and I report to someone higher on the food chain. And if they decide I can't say certain things, then that's what I have to do."

"Even if that means a fucking bomb goes off in our own building?"

"We'll get to the bottom of all this mess. But we have to do this the right way. Methodical. I hope you understand that."

She really doesn't, but arguing about it wouldn't do her any good. "I'll talk to you later."

Carrie hangs up, not even bothering to wait for his reply.

"You can't be pissed off at him" Quinn says, "he's just doing his job."

"Is that your excuse whenever you have to kill someone?"

He eyes her. "I'm not the only one in this room who's done questionable things."

She says nothing as she takes a seat at the table. And they wait.


	4. A Professional Ghost

Carrie tries to learn more about the strange man who seems to be tailing Quinn.

* * *

All her muscles feel tense and nervous, like she's an unwound spring that's ready to jump at any moment. Quinn's house remains dark and quiet, almost annoyingly so, for hours, stretching well into the night. There's no sign of any kind of movement going on anywhere outside the windows or doors, and every few moments Carrie goes from wondering what the hell is happening to thinking that this is all ridiculous and must all be in his head.

She's been waiting by herself for hours, and after a while she finds that sitting in one place just isn't an option. Carrie has never been one to just stand still and patiently wait for something to happen, so she starts pacing the living room.

A noise so faint she almost doesn't catch echoes from a few feet behind her, and Carrie instantly moves to pick up the nearest object. She holds it up in self defense.

"You can put the lamp down" Quinn says, stepping inside the room.

She places it back on the table with a sigh. "Next time try not to move so quietly."

"Did you get any sleep?"

Carrie regards him for a moment and tries and gauge if he realizes just what an absurd thing he just said. "I'm not here to sleep, I'm trying to catch the guy who's following you. Following the Agency."

"And this guy can stay in hiding for weeks, months even. Trust me, if you try to go without sleep, you're just giving him an edge."

"You think a couple of pennies on the window sill will are enough to protect you from this guy?"

He smiles slightly. "You're not my bodyguard, Carrie."

"No, but-"

"Just sleep for a few hours. You can take my bed. I'll stay here and keep watch if it'll help you feel better."

She shakes her head. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep anyway."

Quinn nods once before sitting down at the table. It's impossible to see anything through the blinds, but he stares at the window anyway. Despite the situation, he looks perfectly calm. Sometimes she wonders what's going on in his head.

"How do you do it?" Carrie asks, "Kill people for a living, and then go to sleep like nothing's wrong."

He waits for a moment, trying to think of the right thing to say. "We all do our job the best way we can. I just try to get it done and not think about it too much."

"So you're used to it."

He's still staring into nothing. "You could say that."

"Did you ever target someone I know?"

The question spooks him somewhat, but Quinn remains stoic. "No."

"Are you just lying to cover your ass?"

Her persistence makes him smile slightly. "Get some sleep, Carrie. Take the night off before whatever clusterfuck tomorrow will throw at us."

His hesitation to answer her doesn't do anything to calm her nerves. Carrie wants to keep needling him with questions, but that's not a way to treat someone who admitted to trusting her, even if she might not be convinced of this. But until she can be certain of anything, it's best to leave things alone and not burn anymore bridges. Quinn's been more honest and straightforward than anyone else at the Agency, and she just has to trust that he's on her side.

Carrie walks towards the bedroom and lets herself fall onto the blankets covering the bed. When she fails to find a pillow, she straightens up and looks around the room. Despite the darkness she can clearly tell there's nothing to see anyway. The room is empty.

She tries to get comfortable, shut her eyes and maybe shut out the world in the process. But after half an hour of twisting and turning it becomes clear that sleep just won't come. Carrie gets off the bed and stumbles towards the bathroom.

On a whim, she opens the medicine cabinet. Several bottles of pills come into view, most of them more than half empty. She picks up a bottle that has a label reading sleeping pills. Only a few pills are left scattered at the bottom. She thinks back to how calm and collected Quinn seemed earlier. Looks like he's not as put together as she thought. Before she closes the door to the medicine cabinet, Carrie takes a pill for herself.

Because why the fuck not. It's not like she could get some rest any other way. And she goes back to bed.

-o-

She wakes with a start. Faint light streams through the blinds, indicating she slept throughout most of the night. Carrie almost can't believe she got a full night's rest. She also tries to understand why there's someone hand on her shoulder and shaking her.

"Finally" Quinn says, annoyed. "I thought I'd have to throw you in the shower."

She tries to sit up, but the world tilts the second she does. "Huh?"

"Did you go through my medicine cabinet last night?"

Carrie wants to lie, but all that comes out is a guilty "yeah."

"Next time give me a warning or something."

Her phone buzzes once, alerting her that she's missed a call.

"That's probably Saul" Quinn says "he called me an hour ago."

Carrie raises her head. "What happened?"

"An assignment. We were supposed to be in for briefing ten minutes ago."

"Did he say anything else? About the bomb?"

"No. Now come on."

She swings her legs off the bed and tries to get up. But the world feels slanted and her head is swimming, almost like she's had too much to drink. "Jesus, that shit is strong."

"Next time I'll child-proof all the bottles."

"I can't believe you take this stuff and can still function."

Quinn crosses over and helps her up. "Like you said, I'm used to it."

Carrie tries not to look at him like he's crazy.

As soon as she's stable on her own feet, Quinn easily slips into professional mode, meticulously checking the little security "devices" on his windows and doors before grabbing what he needs for the drive to the Agency. He's so focused by what he's doing that sometimes he doesn't even look human. Carrie thinks about her haphazard and impulsive way of doings things.

They're as different as night and day.

"You ever wonder why they keep sending us on these assignments together?" Carrie asks him.

He snatches the keys from her hands. "Probably because I'm the only one who doesn't take any of your bullshit."

-o-

She stretches her limbs once they are out of the plane. She almost can't believe what she's seeing. Marrakech.

Carrie didn't want to leave the States, didn't want to go so far away from the Agency, especially now when things were on the edge. But she couldn't refuse because of the deal she agreed one day before. So Carrie was stuck acting like a lapdog. But at least she had to do it in a beautiful city.

The assignment sounds simple enough: find out what happened to two agents who were last seen in Morocco and were supposed to be home six days ago. As usual, the briefing they received was quick and lacking details, but Carrie is at least glad that, this time, there was a little chance that Quinn could know something she didn't. She hadn't really let him out of her sight ever since her discharge from the hospital.

Maybe, this time, things have a chance to run smoothly.

The city is crowded and the temperature is high, but they keep calm and try to be methodical. They follow protocol. Pay visit to the last places the two agents had been seen. Ask questions.

And get absolutely nowhere.

After an entire day of running around the city, Carrie begins to suspect that they're being put on yet another ridiculous assignment that can't be solved. They were only sent here to keep them busy enough so that they can't ask questions and start putting together information regarding whatever shadowy clusterfuck is happening inside the Agency. On any other day she would have dismissed this idea, because being paranoid rarely leads anywhere good. Except that, this time, any suspicions are more than warranted.

And this constant idea is bouncing in her head, grinding her patience. But she can't say anything. Because the second she does, Carrie will be sent right back to that hospital room and detained with some bullshit excuse.

They keep searching for answers regarding the two agents until darkness stats to fall. And once the city square starts being flooded by street performers and general chaos, Carrie takes an abrupt detour from their course and walks into a tea shop. Quinn follows her without protest or resistance, sensing her sudden change in attitude.

"So what's going on?" Quinn whispers.

"Your guy followed us here."

He looks at her in disbelief. "You're sure?"

"The same guy has been following us for a few hours, so unless you have a boyfriend I'm not aware of, then yeah, I'm sure."

Quinn closes his eyes briefly.

"So what's the plan?" Carrie asks. "What do we do about it?"

"We stand down."

She stares. "You don't want to catch and interrogate this guy?"

"The second we start doing anything different, he'll know we figured him out, and he'll disappear for a while."

"So we're supposed to do nothing?"

"Until we get back to the States. We need field advantage for this."

"For what? How hard can it be to draw this guy out?"

"And if this thing goes sideways, who's going to bail us out? There's just the two of us in the middle of a foreign country."

He makes a good point, but being patient and waiting things out isn't something Carrie excels at.

"Trust me, it's better if we wait" he goes on. "Just act normal until we get home. And it wouldn't hurt if you smiled once in a while."

"Says the Tin Man."

The corners of his mouth curl upwards a bit. "Okay, you don't have to smile. But you don't have to look so pissed off either."

The fact that they have to actively make sure someone keeps following them around sounds bizarre the more she thinks about it. Carrie has experience losing a tail, not keeping one. But she can't hide that the prospect of catching this guy and finding out what's going on is kind of exciting.

It soon becomes to dark to do anything, so they check into a modest hotel. And as they head up the stairs, Carrie spots a familiar man walking into a room a few feet away. She gives Quinn a light nudge. He glances at her only for a second, but the look speaks volumes. _Ignore him for now. Be patient._

They share the room because it's smarter if they don't separate. Carrie is a bit apprehensive at the idea, but as they set up and check the room for any bugs in silence, it quickly becomes second nature. They're both aware of each other's idiosyncrasies and try not to step on any toes. And, odd enough, it works.

Sleep eludes her completely. Carrie can't stop being aware of how close the man following them is - just two rooms away. She wants to bug his room and find out what the hell he's up to, but there's no way to do something like that because the guy isn't some run-of-the-mill suspect. He managed to track them here almost unnoticed, which means he's a professional. Question is, a professional what?

"Can't sleep?" a voice asks from the other bed.

"It's hard to sleep when you feel like you're being stalked. This is fucking creepy."

"Like you said, he's probably only interested in the Agency. It's nothing personal."

Somehow, that doesn't make her feel any better. "Why do you think he picked you to follow?"

"I don't know."

But it's obvious that he does have a theory why. And so does Carrie. Quinn has travelled all over the world without leaving a mark or even a speck of proof that he exists as a person. He doesn't keep in touch with anyone and he doesn't live in the same place more than a few months. He's a professional ghost. And he's the perfect man to follow because no one would bat an eye if he would suddenly disappear.

"Why didn't you tell Saul about this guy?" she asks him.

A heavy silence settles between them for a moment. "Would you?"

"Maybe not. But you're not me. You do everything by the book."

Quinn laughs weakly. "How does that saying go? Don't compare yourself to other people because you only know their highlights, not their behind-the-scenes."

She says nothing and tries to go back to sleep.

No chance.

Their guy is so, so close, and yet untouchable. And this fact is sending Carrie up the wall. The sound of a door closing shakes her thoughts away, and she slips out of bed. She stops in front of the door and looks through the peephole. Sure enough, someone passes by their door and walks towards the stairs. Their tail.

Quinn gets out of bed a moment later, looking at her dubiously. "I don't know what you're thinking of doing, but-"

"Our guy isn't in his room. I just saw him leave."

Her plan quickly becomes obvious in his head, and Quinn fixes her with his stare. "Carrie, this is a fucking risky idea."

"I'm still following the plan. I'm not engaging him."

"And searching his room is even worse than engaging him. If you're caught-"

"I won't be."

She's ready to bolt out the door when he stops her with a hand on her shoulder. "Listen to me, if he comes back and finds you, then I won't be able to do anything. He's two rooms away, I won't have the time."

"I know, I got it."

"Seriously."

She stares him down until he lets go of her arm.

Carrie hurries to grab the pick gun while a dozen thoughts are circling in her head. Despite the darkness, Quinn manages to catch the frown on her face.

"What's wrong?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing. I'm just surprised you're letting me have my way. I thought you said that you're the only one who doesn't take any of my bullshit."

"I guess you finally wore me down."

"Funny way to say 'trust'."

He shakes his head at her, but there's a hint of amusement there. "Go, before I change my mind."

The hallway isn't dead quiet. There are plenty of voices echoing from the other rooms, so Carrie doesn't have to slow down too much and pace silently. She tries to make her way to the room as fast as possible. Once she reaches the door, she uses the pick gun to unlock it. And, a few seconds later, she's inside.

Carrie didn't think it possible, but the room seems to be even emptier than Quinn's house. The tables and few shelves are empty. The bed is perfectly made. If she didn't know any better, she would assume the room was uninhabited. Except for the suitcase lying next to the bed. She doesn't move it from its spot, but it seems to be open already. Carrie gently raises the lid and peers inside.

She finds a few clothes, a transparent bag with some toiletries. And an entire stack of IDs, all with various names, slightly different pictures, and vastly different details. Carrie is tempted to grab one – just fucking one – but he'd surely take notice. She presses the lid back down and then steps into the bathroom. Nothing but more desolation. Carrie decides there's no point to hang around anymore and steps outside the room, pulling the door to a close behind her with a click.

Carrie's footsteps lightly echo down the corridor. When she's back inside their room, Quinn regards her with curiosity.

"There's only one suitcase with a few essential and no personal belongings" she tells him, "and multiple IDs with different names, details, and even slightly different pictures." She isn't sure what to say about that except, "He's just like us."

"Did you find a weapon?"

"No. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have one. He probably keeps it hidden or on him at all times."

Quinn closes his eyes briefly. "Who the hell could he be working for?"

"Whoever he is, the guy is bad news." And then, tentatively: "Think it's time you come clean to Saul about this?"

Quinn paces the room for a bit, then shakes his head. Sighs a few times. Carrie finds it interesting that the roles seem to be reversed for them. This time she's the one who has to talk some sense into him.

"Like you said" Carrie goes on, "this guy is most likely interested in the CIA, not you personally. I'm sure Saul will keep whatever skeletons you've got in your closet under wraps."

It doesn't ring true, not even for her, but it's the only way to get him to drop his guard down and agree that they need help.

Quinn sits down on his bed and nods once. "When we get home. I'll talk to him as soon as this is over."

Carrie almost can't believe that he managed to sway him so easily. She suddenly feels guilty for being so stubborn whenever he asked her to back down on something.

-o-

The next day follows a similar pattern as the one before. Everywhere they go, the story is the same: no one knows or has ever seen either of the two agents. But some of the people they ask seem a bit too jittery. A bit too scared to talk to them at all.

"Think someone paid them to keep quiet?" Carrie asks, as they cross the city square.

"Most likely."

She takes a breath. "There's no chance we'll find these two agents alive, is there?"

Quinn doesn't answer. He just looks away grimly.

They're almost ready to call it quits and phone the Agency to ask if any new intel has surfaced when they catch a break. A boy who sells trinkets at a stall mentions that he's seen two Americans frequently walking by the square to haggle and ask questions that aren't usual for tourists. And that they were supposedly last seen around the railway station.

It's a long shot, but Carrie decides that they should look into it anyway. Evening sets in as they head for the railway station, and it seems like the more steps they take, the more people they run into. At night, the city turns into a crowded frenzy. And after several hours of elbowing their way through the swarm of tourists, they finally end up in the dizzying maze of back alleys.

Soon enough, the crowd of people begin to thin out, little by little, until it's just the two of them managing through a series of dark paths. Carrie tries to keep her eyes and ears open, wondering if the feeling of dread in her guts is warranted or not.

They eventually reach a dead end, but Quinn points out that there seems to be a passage heading underground. They both turn on their flashlights as they step inside. Carrie relaxes slightly when she realizes that it's nothing but an old parking garage. They walk through it, listening to the sound of their footsteps. But that feeling of dread is still there.

"This doesn't feel right" Carrie whispers. Because, somehow, it doesn't sound like the footfalls are only their own.

Quinn nods. He then unholsters his gun and gestures for her to do the same.

The muffled sound of a suppressed gun goes off above their heads.

Carrie instantly turns off her flashlight and takes cover behind a concrete pillar. She isn't sure where Quinn is but, judging by the absence of light, he's thought of the same thing. For a few moments she can't hear anything other than her own heartbeat. Their shooter – the tail, most likely – has also gone silent.

She wants to shine some light around and try to gauge where the exit or this guy is. But she can't risk it. Another muffled gunshot explodes a few feet from her. Carrie stays motionless for a few seconds, trying to calm her breathing. And then starts moving.

Her vision has significantly improved in the dark and she can now roughly see outlines. Quinn is nearby, to her right, so she heads in the opposite direction. They can't stick together now, because that just makes them easier targets.

Carrie tries to think back to where the last bullet hit and figure out based on that where their shooter might be. But there's no use. Even if she could somehow calm herself down enough to determine his position, there's no chance she could shoot him down. Precision has never been her forte.

But standing still isn't going to help either, especially when she can play bait. Carrie risks another run towards a different pillar. A bullet hits unnervingly close to her this time, and she finds herself freezing in her spot.

And seconds later two loud gunshots sound from her right. Their shooter groans in pain. And nothing but silence follows.

Carrie stays put and listens intently, and a few moments later hears Quinn stepping by her side.

"Are you okay?"

She nods. "Yeah."

"We need to get the hell out of here. Now."

They turn on their respective flashlights and search around, looking for a body. But there is none.

A footfall behind them catches her ear, and Carrie turns around. She pulls the trigger several times. She keeps shooting even after the man falls down with a heavy thud, because she has to make sure. And because she's not taking anymore fucking chances.

She stops when her gun clicks empty. And then it dawns on her that her weapon doesn't have a suppressor and thus made a whole lot of noise. Inside an already echoy underground parking garage.

Quinn runs over towards the body, kicks away the man's discarded weapon, and then starts checking his pockets. But there's nothing. Absolutely nothing. Their shooter has no IDs on hand and looks positively nondescript. Which leaves them with little to go on.

Carrie just stares, suddenly realizing that she's been stuck in place ever since she pulled the trigger.

Quinn steps next to her. "Carrie, we need to go right now."

She blinks a few times to snap to reality, but it's a tough thing to do in only the few seconds they have to spare. She's still lost in her head, and feels a hand grab her own and tugging her along. Carrie starts running mechanically, heading towards the surface.

They just killed – no, _she_ just killed – a man who was following them, while on an assignment in a foreign country. And there's no chance that the Agency will see their side of the story.


End file.
